


Dealing With It

by tarie



Category: Chasing Amy (1995)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-14
Updated: 2012-10-14
Packaged: 2017-11-16 08:03:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/537282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarie/pseuds/tarie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First kiss drabble for Banky/Hooper.  Mature for language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dealing With It

The door had no sooner closed, shutting Holden Fucking McNeil out of his life one more motherfucking time, and then Hooper was at his table, looking down his stuck-up black nose at the stack of _Baby Daves_.

“Do tell, mon cheri,” Hooper drawled, covering the stack with the palm of his hand, leaning on Banky’s table. “Was that yon Mister Sister who verily anon just went withal?” His brows waggled.

Banky fucking hated when he did that. It made him look like a Men on Film reject AND an asshole – although looking like an asshole had to have its perks for a Hershey Highwayman.

“Shut the fuck up,” Banky said irritably, the semi-good mood that’d settled in upon sharing a ‘moment’, however brief it may have been, with Holden now gone like the fuckin’ Flash.

“Oooooh,” Hooper intoned, laying another hand on the table. He leaned in close, and Banky scooted his chair back to compensate. Sobering, Hooper eyed Banky steadily. “Listen, Banky. It’s about high time you learned to deal with—“

“I’M NOT A FUCKING COCK-KNOCKER,” Banky interrupted heatedly. 

The Hellboy and Green Lantern who’d been standing beside the _Baby Dave_ table heatedly arguing over who would win in a bar brawl – The Joker or The Riddler – stopped and stared.

“Fuck this,” Banky said under his breath, toppling his chair over as he stood up abruptly. Shoving past Hooper, he stormed into the nearest head. Thank fucking Christ it was empty, because Banky was not in the mood for fanboys or artists who looked down on his inking roots (Iking gave drawings depth and motherfucking DEFINITION, nonbelievers!).

Before he could shove the trash can against the door to block it off, Hooper pushed his way in. Bitch was a tall Shirley Temple tumbler-full of STRONG – probably boned up fighting off other queers at Bloomingdale’s sales.

“Bitch,” Hooper said, poking a finger in Banky’s chest. “When you gonna learn that bein’ _you_ ain’t such a bad thing?”

“Bitch,” Banky returned, slapping Hooper’s finger away and stuffing the garbage bin under the doorhandle, “when you gonna learn that I just have LAYERS and some of them aren’t light and fluffy like a damned angelfaggotfood cake?”

Hooper stared at him in silence for a long moment before speaking. “When you say shit like that, it makes a girl’s heart pitter-patter. I could just kiss you.”

“Maybe I’ll fuckin’ do it first,” Banky spat.

And then he did.

But the most fuckin’ surprising part about it was not that Hooper kissed back (because Hooper was queer and everyone needed deep dicking, so that was a no-brainer) but that he didn’t STOP. 

Christ. 

Maybe he _could_ learn to deal with this gay shit.


End file.
